


Picks Will Do

by iloveyoudie



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 11:49:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: What did you get for the clever clogs who got himself everything?What did you get for the clever clogs you may have been secretly in love with?What did you get for the clever clogs that you possibly had an inkling shared your feelings but you didn’t have the bollocks to cross that line (because you were his boss, because you were old, because of so many other things)?





	Picks Will Do

Robbie looked at the slip of paper in his hand that read 'Jean Innocent' in neat printed type. Drawing the boss for an office Secret Santa wasn't nearly as daunting as it could've been. He had a decent idea what to buy a woman like her, this was hardly his first rodeo with a Chief Super on his gifts list. A bottle of wine or a favorite liquor was an easy decision with the £25 budget they'd all agreed on collectively. Jean liked a good red wine or, if she was feeling seasonal, some peppermint schnapps.

When he and James settled into the car for the ride home Robbie found himself secretly relieved he hadn't pulled his partner's name. He was already stumped on a proper, adequate and meaningful gift and Lewis couldn't imagine having to pick two.

What did you get for the clever clogs who got himself everything?

What did you get for the clever clogs you may have been secretly in love with?

What did you get for the clever clogs that you possibly had an inkling shared your feelings but you didn't have the bollocks to cross that line (because you were his boss, because you were old, because of so many other things)?

"So?" James started the car and glanced at Robbie side eyed.

"It's a secret, innit?" Robbie knew what he was asking and smiled a bit to himself to withhold information from his know-it-all companion.

James's lips quirked on their own, "If you say so."

Robbie, who hadn't previously had a gnawing need to know who James pulled, now found that he did. James didn't further press, nor offer, but he did put on the radio to fill the silence as they drove and Robbie recognized the piece. Even the classical stations had switched over to all holiday music, "I saw Morse and his choral group sing this once."

"It's Bach," James gave him a glance, "Were they any good?"

"You put enough pretty voices in a big echoey church they can make anything sound good," That was his experience anyway.

James snorted, "I wonder how Morse would feel about your review."

"He was just happy I stayed through the whole thing. I wasn't as enlightened then as I am in me old age."

James smiled small at that.

It wasn't far to his flat and not one of their dinner nights. Laura called them Date Nights and he could only lamely argue it the first few times he'd heard the phrase. Now everyone used the term. Robbie found that he dreaded getting out of the car on these off evenings, when James didn't come in with him, when he'd go and have a microwaved meal (probably leftovers of 'date night' cooking if he hadn't cleaned them out) and he'd be left alone. He used to be comfortable in his quiet privacy and now it just felt like there was an empty space when James wasn't there, and it was more than just the seat next to him on the sofa.

"I got Innocent," Lewis said, flicking the scrap of paper in James's direction.

"Bottle of wine?" James predicted.

"Or peppermint schnapps."

James lifted his brows, "Remember the last time she got schnapps?"

Robbie laughed, "With the mistletoe?"

"It was fine until she'd finished making her kissing rounds and hooked it on her back pocket," James remembered.

"If I remember correctly you had a few too many yourself and volunteered very formally to kiss her ars-"

"Yes," James interrupted with a cough, "We all had a bit too much that year I think."

"Wine it is then," Robbie agreed.

The car had stopped outside of his building and he glanced out at the darkened windows, still reluctant to leave, "So then, who'd you get?"

"I thought it was a secret?" James lifted his brows.

Robbie made a face.

"I got _you_ ," James flashed a sudden smile that cut through the deadpan and disappeared as quickly as it came, "And now have thoroughly ruined the entire point of a _Secret_ Santa."

"Should I be nervous?" Robbie probed, feeling a flush of heat with only a small idea as to why, "I suppose I'll wait with bated breath then, shall I? Remember, you cheeky sod, it's got to be workplace appropriate."

James was as serious as always, "Don't worry, sir. I've already picked something out and I'm a consummate professional."

When the car pulled off and Robbie was secured in his flat he found he couldn't stop thinking about what James might get him. There was a sudden pressure now, self-imposed certainly, that Robbie get James - the man he was secretly in love with - something meaningful. Special. Hathaway always got him something perfect, something he didn't realize he even needed until he had it, and Robbie knew anything he could give the other would pale in comparison but James never seemed to mind. In fact, he only ever seemed to want to one-up himself, making sure that year's gift would be better than the one he gave previous.

Last year James had unearthed a wealth of old photos that Robbie had never unpacked and his gift had been to frame certain ones and make an album of the rest. He'd nearly wept, seeing his family and friends up on the mantle. He and Val and the kids, he and Morse, even his old squad up north. There was even a shot of he and Hathaway from one of those wild work christmas parties - him in a paper crown and James inebriated and pink and smooching him on the head. Robbie had never been more moved and never had felt more at home in his flat than he had at that moment.

Now, under the placid gazes of all those photos, with a bit of reheated roast chicken and broccoli, Robbie's fixation on Christmas had at the very least finally distracted him from his loneliness.

There was an extra layer of added pressure. He and James had agreed to spend Christmas together, the whole holiday, not just the Eve. Lyn was off to her in-laws and Robbie had turned down an invitation to join them. He'd sort of stumbled nonchalantly through asking James to spend it with him and the other had seemed rather chuffed at the idea. Robbie would have bottled that smile if he could have and now when they weren't talking about work or otherwise, James was planning. It was all about the decorations and traditions and things he suspected the other never got to do with his own family. Several whole evenings had been spent listening to a running laundry list of recipe ideas and Robbie had even unearthed Val's Christmas pudding recipe from the annals of time.

The plan was that after the station holiday party they would collect groceries and an overnight bag from James's and then head back to his own place where there would be drinking and cooking and something seasonal on the telly. While James would be culinary, Robbie would decorate. It sounded perfect he had to be honest, and a bit of a relief not to have the pressure of his family and his grandchild and some big hullabaloo.

Except now he was suddenly nervous. His assumption that it would be perfect became pressure that it _actually_ be perfect and knowing James would be nailing down not one, but two Christmas gifts for him, only gave Robbie slow simmering stress.

It all came back around to the fact that he was in love with him. His partner. His best friend. He found the truth often inconveniently on the tip of his tongue, eager to slip free and easy as a how'd you do. It wasn't about the physical attraction, though that was more present than he'd like to admit, it was about how nothing ever felt like it was missing when they were together and about how easy it felt to want to say that aloud.

Robbie finished his chicken with a humorless laugh at himself, "Morning James. Is that coffee for me? I love you."

He snorted, "Here's those reports for Innocent. Oh, and I love you."

He stabbed the last piece of broccoli, "Thank you for the secret santa gift.. Oh yes, by the way, I'm bloody well in love with you."

***

"What do you want for Christmas then, James?" Lewis finally just bucked up and asked. There was only a week now until the party and then ultimately the day itself. Christmas was supposed to be a time of joy and merriment and while Robbie was feeling it in a tertiary way, he was still overly focused and worried about this entire gift giving scenario.

Date night was going according to the usual plan and James set a plate down in front of him before settling down beside. Robbie had tucked himself into the corner of the sofa and instead of James taking the other corner, he took the middle, forever putting himself right up beside him, elbows brushing and thighs flush. He'd never thought about it much in the past but after acknowledging his own feelings Robbie felt like he tingled everywhere they touched.

"Just your presence is enough to sustain me for another year, sir," James said with his predictable cheek.

"No, really lad," Robbie took a drink of his beer before tucking in.

"Yes, really," James had a serious look now and the quiet dragged out a moment too long.

_Thank you for the curry, sergeant. I love you._

"Yes well, can't put a bow on that can I?" Robbie muttered and turned to his plate.

"Guitar picks then," James tilted his head, "I can always use guitar picks."

***

Through the entire workday Robbie had been on edge, not the bad sort of edge, but the kind that made his spine tingle and goosebumps raise on his skin every time James entered or exited the room. It was a tingle of anxious expectation. The office was draped in garlands and mistletoe hung in all the major door frames. Robbie had a Santa hat perched jauntily on his head from the moment it had been plopped on him as he arrived for the day. James agreed to nothing less than a pair of felt reindeer antlers that made him just that much taller and had him knocking or ducking through every doorway.

At four on the dot the party began. All the office doors were flung wide and those who were off duty began showing up in casual wear and ugly sweaters. Booze bottles were being passed about stuck with bows and in obvious tall gift bags, but not dipped into too much because the hard drinking came later when someone with a bit more authority shooed them all out to the pub. Lewis had a small pile of Christmas cards on his desk with his name on them and he'd completed the obligatory stroll to distribute greetings and gift cards to anyone who fit into that particular niche of his working life. At some point he'd been stuck in a cruel queue of constables and sergeants who had trapped him under a sprig of mistletoe and were planting joyfully wet kisses on his cheeks. For a group that griped about working with his cranky arse, they were sure affectionate when given an excuse to be.

Robbie had been rescued by Laura who had a real gift for him, a real kiss and somehow a coyer smile than usual. She had family in town for the holiday and he'd initially invited her to join he and James but she had laughed and bobbed her eyebrows and said that as much as the company of two handsome men was appealing, she would sit this one out. She gave him a couple of new jumpers and shirts, nice ones, and replacements for a few threadbare things he'd been seen out in public wearing lately. There was a stroke of _family_ feeling in the gift, getting him quality essentials while knowing he wouldn't pick such nice things for himself on his own. It was strangely comforting, to have someone look out for him in such a way when his daughter was so far off and Val was gone. He knew he wasn't as much of a hopeless man as everyone thought but at this time of year the attention was not unappreciated. She was off as quickly as she swept through, with a wink and a wave and he felt distinctly like she may have been in on a joke that he wasn't.

When James finally appeared at the office door and handed him a small rectangular parcel in tasteful silver paper, the thudding in Robbie's chest finally died down. It seemed like a very ordinary sort of gift. No grand gesture or elaborate set up.

"Ho ho ho. Your Secret Santa delivers," James leaned against the door frame with the type of slouch only a tall drink of water in antlers could maintain and still fit.

"I'm the one in the Santa hat. Which reindeer are you anyway? Dasher? Dancer? Cheeky Bugger?" Robbie peeled the edge of the paper neatly. It was such a nice wrap job that ripping it to shreds surely would have been disrespectful to the effort.

"Vixen," James said with a husky affectation that made the hairs on Robbie's neck stand on end. One of these days his comments were going to get one or the both of them in trouble.

Lewis focused on the gift, peeling the paper away to reveal a glossy embossed cover. _Pulled from the Pit: The 'Return' of Esmé Ford_ was embossed impressively in a chilling font. It was a new memoir being released by Midnight Addiction recounting the dramatic return of the long-dead singer and the murderous saga that unfolded as a result.

"What's this then?" Robbie sat up straighter. He flipped through the pages of text to find glossy photos of the band as well as current pastoral shots of their manor. In one picture the remaining band members posed coolly in their now familiar sitting room. In the Special Thanks section there was a mention of the Oxford Police who had helped along the way. 'You know who you are' it said.

"Did you know about this?" Robbie gawked. Inside the front cover, nestled among the surviving band members' signatures, was a personalized inscription - _'Robbie, thanks for everything. Rock on.'_

"I did actually," James said, still slouching to accommodate his head wear, "Franco kept my card and rang me. He wasn't really asking permission so much as telling me it was finished. We had lunch. That's actually an advanced copy."

"Oh, its lunch with rock stars now, eh?" Robbie ribbed him, "I knew you'd be going places, lad."

"Don't worry, sir. You're the true rock star of my heart."

Robbie felt warm under the collar but knew a joke when he heard one, even if they came much more often these days. James's usual deadpan expression and those goofy antlers meant that he could only really laugh.

"This is amazing James. Thank you." It really was.

"Do you want to um," James didn't often 'um' and he swept his antlers off when he straightened and they jostled in the doorway. He tugged his hair a bit and gathered himself, "head home? As much as I love watching them all get pissed and make fools of themselves. I'd like to get started cooking."

Right. Cooking. Robbie's heart thudded again, "Nothing like moving the drinking to the privacy of your own home. Let's get on then."

***

The ride was spent with carols jingling through the car speakers and Robbie reading more overblown bits of the new book out loud. It was very sensationalized and spent a good deal of time in exposition on Vernon Oxe's villainy. They had also given the officers in the story fake names for privacy, though he knew that anyone who wanted to know the truth could simply google it.

It was also easier to distract himself with his gift on the ride, than to sit with an anxious lump in his chest.

In his weeks of agonizing over the holiday Robbie had eventually come up with a plan, a gift that was to say, but now that they were on the cusp of an exchange he was almost nervous enough to not follow through. They stopped at James's flat and when Robbie offered help with the bags, the other had said he was fine and it would only be a minute.

When James disappeared inside, Robbie slid himself into the driver's seat. He cracked the window, inhaled a cold and crisp deep breath, and noticed a hint of snow in the air.

 _'We are expecting a rare white Christmas. It should all be gone by Boxing Day but enjoy it while it lasts!_ ,' the radio warned as if by providence, ' _Everyone stay safe on the roads and enjoy the wintry weather! And now, Bing Crosby singing Irving Berlin's song of the same name - White Christmas.'_

James was back within ten minutes smelling like a quickly smoked cigarette and carting a small cooler of supplies, his guitar case and an overnight bag. He gave Robbie a curious look to find him in the driver's seat but dropped into the passengers with no complaint.

Lewis had a plan. Well, he'd _had_ a plan but now his nervousness was overruling everything. His fingers drummed on the wheel and while James buckled his seat belt, he'd yet to start the car again or take it out of park.

"Sir?" The silence stretched on a bit longer than need be, "You alright?"

Robbie realized now if he was going to say what he needed to, he didn't want James to feel trapped. He also didn't want to ruin Christmas but consideration was more important than selfishness.

"You're alright with this arrangement, James, aren't you?" Robbie cast him a sidelong glance.

"I take it you don't mean you driving," James said carefully, "Do you mean Christmas together?"

Yes. No. Maybe.

"Well, yes. I know it's nothing exciting-"

"Sir, I've been meticulously curating a proper dinner menu for weeks. With you. You do realize I haven't spent Christmas with anyone besides myself or church congregations in an embarrassing number of years?" There was nothing desperate or soft in James's tone. He was very firm and intent on this Christmas and had been from the start, "I'm not sure why you even want to spend it with me, but short of Father Christmas appearing in a shower of magical snow flurries to prove his existence, I'm not sure this could possibly be more ideal."

"Alright, alright. I'm just making sure. I don't even like hearing you've been by your lonesome that long," Robbie sighed and glanced out the window. He was bungling this up, "That is another point of the thing though, you were always welcome with me and mine." He'd sort of always insinuated it, he thought, but the other seemed so keen on keeping their privacies. "Even if I'd have gone to Lyn's this year- I would've probably found some god awful way to ask you to come along. You're my family too."

No, this was coming out wrong. It wasn't a family situation at all. Well, _it was_ in a way, but not in the particular way it was coming out of his gob. Robbie's hand drummed again in frustration and he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out something that looked like a tube wrapped in gaudy red and green paper. He thrust it at James.

"Sir," James had softened visibly, sensing something more in Robbie's clear nervousness, "I thought gifts were later."

"Just open it," Robbie frowned, "Please."

James sensed his gravity and carefully peeled the paper. Into his lap slid a Yorkie bar and a rolled up playbill for CATS.

Robbie stared resolutely out the windscreen and gripped the wheel like a lifeline. James was staring at the objects in his lap. He had the expression of one who was piecing together clues, as if this were the case of a lifetime and to get it wrong would mean dire consequences.

"Sir," James said carefully when he finally looked up, "Are you coming out to me?"

_You daft bugger, I'm in love with you._

"No. Wait, yes. _God this is stupid_. I knew this was stupid."

"No no no.." James was suddenly touching him, a hand on his knee and an earnest face and Robbie remembered those years ago, remember James yelling about what had happened with Will. His regret. His sorrow. How he'd carried the weight of that mistake for so long. Robbie realized now that this was an unintentional second chance for James and even if it wasn't part of his plan, even if the gesture had been meant to segue into something else, maybe this was actually something they both needed.

"It's not stupid. You're not stupid," James said firmly and then he smiled. It was bigger than any smile Robbie had ever seen on him, "You're amazingly brave."

Robbie would have flushed if he was prone to that sort of thing. It hadn't been the grand love confession he'd intended, he couldn't find the words even now, _but dear god look at him._ He was so lovely and so proud.

"I don't know about all that," Robbie put his hand over James's on his knee and patted it, "But I wanted to make sure you were alright. With that. With me. Before the next bit of this surprise."

James still looked a bit wide eyed about his previous confession, "Next bit, sir?"

"Oh, please come off it with the 'Sir'. It's Christmas and I just… told ya something no one else knows."

"You're right," James sat back in his seat then, clapped his long hands onto his knees, and tried it out very seriously, "Robbie."

James was clearly only just restraining his smile, the same look he got when Robbie dropped obscurely intelligent conversation on him when he wasn't expecting it.

"Consider me fully braced for the 'next bit', sir. Robbie," James flicked him another look and his lips pressed tight to restrain more smiling. What had gotten into the lad?

"Well, I thought if you'd been wanting a proper Christmas that my flat wasn't exactly the most ideal locale. So I went ahead and rented a cottage for a couple of days. It's going to snow, the forest, a proper fireplace. Not living rough or anything, it's got WiFi.."

James did bark a laugh there. It burst out of him and he actually clamped his lips shut again, "I…"

"God James, don't laugh at me now. You're exploding!" Robbie couldn't help his own smile. He could tell the joy was genuine and he probably just looked like a fussy old fool but Lewis would take it if it put that look on James's face, "I'd reckon you got into the schnapps before we left."

"I'm sorry, sir. Robbie, no. This is just amazing. When I said you were amazing, sir, I really meant it," James took a deep breath and finally his face settled into something placid and much more in-character. "Now, if you don't mind we should um… _actually go_."

"Oh! Right-" He started the car and set his phone up to navigate, "Got to stop at my flat first for my bag and the decorations."

Robbie had nothing to say about being amazing. He hadn't even really confessed anything at all. His plan had been to tell James that he loved him and then he'd sweep him off to a romantic cottage weekend together. It sounded very presumptuous in retrospect and now this felt like he'd bypassed the confession and the rest of it, while going along properly, was now misrepresented.

If James had said no? He'd likely gone off and hid in a cottage in the woods alone for Christmas. Like a proper hermit.

"One criticism, sir?" James had himself momentarily under control again, "The Yorkie bar and musical bit is a rather stereotypical analogy in retrospect. And CATS is _terrible_."

"Oi, it's all I could find in a pinch," Robbie was at least feeling better by the second, "Rum Tum Tugger always reminded me a bit of Morse."

" _For he will do as he do do, and there's no doing anything about it,_ " James said obligingly.

"I thought CATS was terrible?" Robbie laughed.

***

By the time they'd gotten Lewis's things, the last of the shopping and the decorations, the snow was beginning to fall. The uncomfortable tension that Robbie had been gathering had finally trickled away little by little. He'd expected James to bombard him with questions about his sexuality somewhere along the line, or how that connected to them going off to a cottage together, but the moments of inquiry never came. James still looked inordinately pleased but he had calmed and was no longer a vibrating time bomb of grins and laughter.

"How on earth," James finally said while they were on the motorway. They weren't going far, an hour at most with the traffic at this time of year, "did you get an idyllic WiFi accessible cottage on what I assume was short notice, on Christmas?"

Robbie puffed up with genuine accomplishment, "AirBnB."

"Brilliant."

***

The cottage was perfect. In fact, Robbie even entertained a moment of wistful retirement fantasy. It was clean and comfortable and a bit bigger than his own flat. As expected of something he'd booked online, it was also more modern than his own flat. He could've lived somewhere like this, away from the rest of the world until those days he felt like venturing into town for a bit of sociability. Picking and choosing his company certainly had its appeal, but then he remembered how he'd thought the same when he'd gone to BVI and sat in his first bungalow on a white beach and stared out at the ocean and thought that he'd gotten far enough away where this version of loneliness was much more acceptable than the one back home. That appeal faded fast. Robbie loved to be busy and realized that the allure of this place, in this moment, was that James was with him.

He dropped their duffel bags into the only bedroom before and realized the folly in his failed plan once more. He'd certainly have to explain the sleeping arrangements somehow if he never got up the nerve to follow through on his heart to heart.

James jumped into cooking with respectful enthusiasm when he saw the fancier appliances. Robbie poured them each wine and put on music and James gave a running commentary here and there as he worked, asking opinions and occasionally making him taste something.

Besides the change in location, it was just as easy as it always was to coexist this way. Robbie had been puttering about shifting furniture for the decor and talking about Lyn's gossip from her in-law's house (the crazy uncle was there this year) when ' _Wonderful Christmastime'_ had come on the radio for the second time since they arrived _._   James exploded. It was, as Lewis had learned, Hathaway's least favorite Christmas song and more than being overplayed, felt it was one of Paul McCartney's worst attempts at songwriting. This was unfortunately the fifth time this holiday season that Robbie had heard this particular rant so, in an effort to save himself, he switched off the radio and put on the Christmas episode of _Cabin Pressure_ from James's phone.

Yes, it was just like home.

With cooking, candles and and a fire crackling in the hearth they had achieved the proper Christmas atmosphere. Robbie strung fairy lights and garlands and even put up a faux Douglas Fir just as the snow had finally begun to lay.

A few glasses of wine in, as he set an obnoxiously and hilariously gaudy fiber optic angel on top of the tree, Robert Lewis had nearly forgotten that he'd had a plan at all.

***

"Gah!" Robbie exasperated as he settled onto the sofa in front of the flickering hearth, "James, you outdid yourself. I won't eat again for a week."

"Well that's no good. There's still a pudding that I was really looking forward to dousing with alcohol and setting aflame," James, instead of joining him, went for his guitar and took up a solitary chair by the tree and in front of the windows. He always handled the instrument with reverence and Lewis was sure that recovering that particular object for the lad may have been one of his life's greater achievements.

"I don't know how you can even think about food right now. And still a rail, you."

James flashed him a quick satisfied look as he began plucking and tuning.

Robbie admired him from across the room, cast against the flickering of the fire and the snow falling outside and the sparkle of the holiday lighting. His sleeves were rolled up and his hair stuck up at odd angles from idle pulling and tugging and ruffling over the course of the evening. As he plucked the strings lightly Robbie could only admire his long fingers, the smooth pale of his arms and the stretch of his neck. Feeling swelled again and words came and settled on his tongue, never moving forward, as always.

_Dear God, James, you're beautiful. I love you._

Robbie was suddenly pinned by those eyes and he felt a sudden guilt, as if he'd been caught in something illicit. Just looking, he'd say if asked, but James didn't. He just smiled and went back to his guitar while looking strangely and suddenly nervous.

Robbie straightened. James didn't often play in front of him, in fact only once had he heard him pluck idly at his guitar while they sat in James's flat after a takeaway meal and Lewis had only ever gone to see one single gig of the lad's band. James had, for the most part, kept that part of his life distinctly separate from his policing. When he'd seen the guitar loaded into the car Robbie expected it was more out of safety, like a possessive parent who wouldn't let their child out of their sight once they'd had one traumatizing scare. He couldn't really blame him, he knew how much it meant to him.

James tuned the guitar with intent and when he glanced up at Robbie across the room that initial nervous energy seemed to have intensified noticeably, causing the man to shift in his seat. They'd both gone silent in expectation and finally, finally, a few clear notes were struck, a familiar tune begun, James took a bracing breath, and began to sing.

 _"I'd heard there was a secret chord_  
_that David played and it pleased the Lord,_  
_But you don't really care for music, do you?"_

His voice was low and soft, tentative, before he closed his eyes and focused. Then it got clear and strong. When James opened his eyes again they locked on Robbie and the man's heart leapt into his throat. Robbie knew the words by heart, he assumed everyone did, but the song had been played a thousand ways and never the same. This time, he knew, was for him.

It felt like a confession.

 _"Well, it goes like this_  
_The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift_  
_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah"_

The hairs on Robbie's neck stood on end. He was enraptured and James's voice carried him away. The well known words, even when he found himself mouthing them, _She broke your throne and she cut your hair,_ were different from James. Soaring. Raw. Meaningful despite the tinge of sadness.

 _"Well baby, I've been here before_  
_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew ya.."_

Robbie was frozen through the rendition, fully taken by James, and even as the last verses were belted out, _it's a cold and broken hallelujah_ , the words floated, haunting yet heavenly, through the warm little cottage. He almost couldn't breathe.

Robbie swallowed thickly as silence settled again and when James looked up a final time, his lips parted from the lingering breath of his final hallelujahs, he looked as flayed and vulnerable as a raw nerve.

"James, I-"  
"Robbie-"

They spoke at the same time, then both smiled awkwardly and tried again.

"Sorry, you-"  
"You can go-"

Again their words clashed in midair and Robbie took a final deep breath.

"James, I'm in love with you."  
"Robbie, I love you."

Somehow for all their stumbled and awkward pacing the word love seemed to lay over itself cleanly in mid-air, embrace in chorus, and was the only syllable in the sentence that came through loud and clear.

And they stared at one another, both agape, both in awe, and both - apparently - in love.

***

"You are handling this much better than I am, lad," Robbie was having a hard time letting go of the other. James hadn't exactly thrown himself across the room, he'd been rather frozen in shock, but Robbie told him if he didn't get over there and kiss him he'd consider it an offense.

And kiss they had. It was still humming through him from head to foot.

"I am not actually," James laughed shakily as he pressed into Robbie's side, "Give it time. It'll catch up to me. What are shock symptoms again?" He tilted his head up to Robbie.

"Not sure we have training for this sort of shock, lad," Robbie smiled, leaned in and kissed him again. Slow and savouring and once more a reassurance, "If ya have a breakdown, just don't doubt me feelings please. I already had a near aneurysm planning this whole thing out."

"I did notice the single bedroom," James mused.

"Presumptuous of me, I know."

"Yes but," James had that look again like he was holding back his grinning, "romantic."

"This was not my plan. It got buggered all to hell," Robbie finally admitted. James sat himself up a bit more and reached for his glass of wine. Yes, alcohol would make the tremors go away.

"I am curious," The blonde said after a sip, "about what your plan was."

"I was going to give you the... You know the bit with the Yorkie bar and the playbill and, well, I suppose I thought I would tell you then but it didn't work out that way. And then we got here-"

"What if I had- the idea i ridiculous for me to even say but- what if I'd said no?"

"Oh, hide in shame. Absolutely," Lewis rubbed his face, "Complete exile."

James elbowed him a bit and snorted as he took another sip of wine. The pink high on his cheeks seemed permanent now and he remained flush to Robbie's side and with the older man's arm across the back of the sofa behind him.

"There are one or two more gifts though," Robbie admitted, this time no longer embarrassed, "To make it a proper Christmas."

And he produced a gift bag stuffed to the brim with packs of socks and an ugly holiday themed jumper, "Ya have to get the awful practical gifts as well."

"I now truly have gotten the full experience."

"Oh, and your guitar picks are in there as well."

That got a legitimate widening of eyes, "I really do need them!" 

"So you said," Robbie laughed lightly.

"But you did get one part wrong," James settled back close again.

"What's that?"

James plucked up a bow from off of the gift bag and plopped it on top of Robbie's head before leaning for a kiss.

"You can absolutely put a bow on what I really wanted."

**Author's Note:**

> My prompts for this fic were Office Secret Santa and a picture of a warm hearth. 
> 
> The story absorbed a few conversation topics over the past few weeks while myself and friends were also working on their own fic... so I guess its a Christmas-y nod to our collective experience. 
> 
> I haven't even written in this fandom for a year yet and yet I feel so entrenched and at home. 
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone in the best fandom ever :D
> 
> (also is there some way we can pay Laurence Fox to cover Hallelujah? ... asking for a friend...)  
> (also guitar picks are actually great gifts for guitar playing friends!)


End file.
